I hate this bed and what it lets me do.
I hate these sheets and the movements they conceal underneath.
I hate these pillows, how her hair fans out against them.
I hate this lamp; one switch and we're invisible.
I loathe this phone that rings and causes our separation.
I loathe this shower; it washes me clean of her.
I loathe these hands that hang idly at my sides and let her go.
I loathe that door; it grants her access and aides her exit.
I love the man in the office. Pity I must love his wife more.